


Better Than Chocolate

by perhael



Category: Traders (TV 1995)
Genre: F/M, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perhael/pseuds/perhael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant likes helping people out (AKA, the one where Grant is an idiot sex savant). Not terribly graphic, for all that the entire fic is Grant fucking people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Chocolate

Ann comes in around midday, smiling her secret smile, the one she only uses for Grant (and maybe for Jack sometimes, but Grant doesn't want to think about that). She looks around the tiny closet office distractedly, petting him on the head and murmuring "Grant," and he slides down from his chair and lifts up her skirt. On his knees on the floor, and she's leaning against his desk, panting and writhing and biting her lip to keep from crying out loud. Her fingers are stroking and pulling at his hair, and he licks at her until she's moaning and shuddering and her wetness sticks to his beard and moustache.

Sometimes he thinks she tastes better than chocolate, but chocolate is always available in abundance and she only comes when she needs him, so maybe chocolate is better.

*

Jack talks about his clients and his schemes and the deals he's made and the deals he wants to make, and Grant listens attentively. He can't really talk because his mouth is otherwise occupied, but he hums and nods and Jack seems to be just fine with that. Grant is fine with it, too, because the things Jack does with money seem to have little in common with Grant's own carefully constructed patterns and predictions, so Grant never quite knows what to say anyway. Instead, he takes Jack deep into his throat and sucks him until Jack's money talk turns into a breathy "Grant, fuck, _yes_".

There's a pattern to this, too, this thing they do, but Grant doubts Jack can see it.

*

Chris's cheek is smooth against Grant's thigh, his mouth hot and wet on Grant's cock. Chris likes to suck him off, which is a little different because mostly people just want Grant to do things to _them_, but Grant has no objections. No objections at all, especially when Chris does that swirly thing with his tongue just below the head of Grant's cock, then swallows him all the way down, humming "O Canada" under his breath. Grant comes with his eyes squeezed shut, streams of color dancing behind his eyelids.

"I can't stay," Chris says, wiping his mouth on the hem of Grant's shirt. "I have to see what the yen's doing."

Grant barely notices when he leaves, already trying to turn the swirls of color behind his eyes into shapes and numbers.

*

Donald blushes and stammers like he doesn't know how to ask for it, which is okay because once Grant has caught on there really is no need for words. Grant simply gets up and covers Donald's mouth with his own, silencing all his unasked questions. Donald tastes salty and sweet, like the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he brings Grant sometimes, and he nearly yelps when Grant stuffs his hand down his pants.

"Grant... you won't tell anyone, right?" Donald asks worriedly. Grant just smiles and sinks to his knees, making Donald forget there ever was such a thing as doubt.

*

Marty never comes by except to shout at him. Grant offers, once, thinking that maybe if Marty were more relaxed he wouldn't have to shout at people all the time. Marty goes completely still, voice turning dangerously quiet. "Never. _Ever_. Ask me this again. Understood?" Grant winces and recoils, nodding apologetically. "Sorry," he mumbles, and Marty sighs and puts his hand on Grant's shoulder. "I'm just not that kinda guy, okay? Now get back to work, Jansky. Go on."

Marty still comes by to shout like nothing happened. Grant never asks him again.

*

Grant is surprised when Sally comes to see him, because she's _Sally_, she's the boss lady, and Grant secretly thinks overheads aren't really like normal people. Then again, Grant isn't really like normal people either, though he's pretty sure he could never be an overhead. Sally sits on his desk and unbuttons her blouse and he suckles on her breast like a nursing baby. She hitches up her skirt and he slips a hand inside her panties, fingers deftly exploring the slick folds of skin hidden there.

"Grant, you know you don't have to do this, right?" she asks him once the moaning and panting has stopped and she's at the door, straightening her blouse. Grant looks at her, confused. "You didn't like it?"

"No, no, it's not that, it's just..." She sighs, pets his hand. "I did like it, Grant. I just want to be sure that you like it, too."

Grant smiles, suddenly understanding. "Oh, I like it," he says. "Sometimes it's better than chocolate."


End file.
